Holding on
by AAnitab
Summary: Post the kiss, but my Chance said there was no way in hell he was letting her have any regrets in the morning. But neither is he letting her out of his sight, or out of his arms.  It will be M, but isn't there just yet. Chance/Isla romantic smut ahead.
1. Seeing it coming

Title: Holding on

Author: AnitaB

Author's notes: I'm not the only one overjoyed at the show taking steps towards Chance/Ilsa happiness, but then my Chance said there was no way in hell he was letting her have any regrets in the morning. But neither is he letting her out of his sight, or out of his arms. It will be M, but isn't there just yet. Chance/Isla romantic smut ahead.

I own nothing from Human Target. No infringement is intended and no money is made.

Holding on

By AnitaB

Chapter one: Seeing it coming

He should have seen it coming. He should have figured it out the first time he couldn't say no to her. Chance was good at making people do what he wanted them to do. He convinced people to stand still in front of loaded guns. He made people jump out of perfectly good planes and risk their lives on only his word that it would work out.

So why was it that he couldn't say no to her? And why in the hell didn't he figure out why before this? Harry, of all people, knew it first. Mr. Bad Luck go Boom had to put those words together in a string and change the way Chance saw the world just before the woman in question stepped in the door.

/Ilsa,\\ He was staring at her like he'd never seen her before. And somehow he hadn't really. /Goddamnit all to hell, Harry's right. I have feelings for Ilsa.\\ Gunfire and explosions do tend to help one focus. They were safe. Chance knew exactly what to do about the men with weaponry. He had no idea what to do about the stubborn, ridiculous woman here to rescue him.

But eventually the emergency was over and he didn't have the danger to hide behind. Sometime after the bullets had stopped flying, Ilsa had disappeared. It was a good idea to keep the famous name and money line out of the police report… but Chance didn't like that she was out of his sight. Ever.

The first time his fingers dialed her number without permission from his brain, he tried to tell himself that he was just watching her back like he would for any person on his team. The fourth time he listened to her voice doing the 'leave a message' line he was already in the car on the way back to the office. It had been a difficult job for all of them. Besides, she probably still had the dose from the wine in her system. Someone should check on her.

Of course that was the only reason he was nervous and worried. It wasn't because he had feelings for his boss. Not really.

Chance saw the lights and smelled the alcohol before he took a single step out of the elevator. He knew what she'd be staring at before he leaned on the door jamb and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. For the first time in his life, he didn't trust his hands to do what he told them to.

The sniffle in her voice and the redness in her eyes made him want to reach out to her even more. So he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and tried to make the words do what he shouldn't or couldn't. Harry was more than right. Chance was falling for Ilsa. He couldn't help but point out that Marshall was an idiot for even thinking about cheating on a woman like her.

He really should have seen this coming. But her lips were against his before he could react. And his hands finally escaped his control completely. /Ilsa,\\ Chance helplessly kissed her back, his fingers finally running through those soft black curls. She tasted of alcohol, warmth and just a hint of salt from crying. Warm hands gripped his shoulders, rubbed along his jaw and neck as Ilsa pressed closer against his chest for another kiss. And another.

When she pulled back and touched trembling fingers to her lips, Chance still wanted more. That was the only word left in his mind other than her name. The want written in those beautiful dark eyes made all his self control seem to melt away. "Ilsa," He cupped one hand around the back of her neck and slowly pulled her into the circle of his arms, giving her as much time as he could to pull away. She didn't. /More, please.\\ The warmth of her lips opened against his and Chance got drunk on her taste. Rum, the sweetest warmth and that hint of salt. Ilsa made a soft hungry sound in the back of her throat, her arms tightening around his neck, inviting him deeper.

There was nothing he wanted more. Chance buried one hand in her hair and wrapped his arm tight around her waist. He groaned low in his throat and danced his tongue against hers. The rum was stronger here, but so was the salt. It was too strong for tears.

/Ilsa drank the wine… oh fuck.\\ He had to stop this. He had to stop this right now. She was drunk and emotional on top of a dose of sodium thiopental. Chance could not hurt her like this, take advantage of her. But pulling back from the grip of her hands and the best kiss he'd ever had wasn't easy. And Isla wasn't making it any easier with a desperate little moan and the invasion of her tongue in his mouth. "Ilsa,"

"Chance," Dark eyes lifted to his filled with heat. Shaking fingers cupped his jaw as she leaned closer, reaching for his lips with her own.

/Christopher Chance, stop it right the fuck now.\\ He forced both hands open and braced them hard against her waist. "Ilsa, we shouldn't… I can't." Unwilling arms pushed her back, but only managed a few inches. It wasn't nearly far enough to keep her safe. Not from him.

"You can't what, Mr. Chance? You can't touch me. You can't hold me." Ilsa pulled back, coming to her feet, shaking just a little on her high heels. "Do not even try to tell me that you did not feel that, that you do not want me… just as much as I want you." Her hands balled into fists at her sides and he almost welcomed the punch. It would hurt so much less than the look in her eyes.

"I can't hurt you, Ilsa." His hands were cold as he stood to move closer. Chance wanted her heat against his skin, wanted to strip her out of that dress and feel every inch of her skin against his own. But he'd shoot himself in the head before he'd add one more ounce of pain to the hurt in her face. "You're drunk, you're in pain, and you're still dosed from the wine. If I took you right now, you'd never forgive me. I'd never forgive myself. I won't hurt you, Ilsa, I can't."

She looked like he'd slapped her in the face. Her arms wrapped around her waist and her eyes locked on the floor. "If that is how you feel, Mr. Chance, if I am no more than one of our clients to you, than I will go. This…" Her hand waved in the air between them. "… never happened. We are… merely associates, nothing more."

/No,\\ The pain in her voice, the sudden hesitance in her face, her body. He couldn't let her out of this room, out of this building like this. He couldn't let her go. "No, Ilsa, that's not how I feel." Before she managed two steps towards the door, Chance found his arms tucking her in close against his chest, his chin resting against her hair. "I want you, you have to know that. But I can't touch you like that until you're sober enough for consent." Her arms stopped pushing at his chest, slowly circling his waist as her body relaxed a little into his hold. "I want you, Ilsa, not the alcohol, not the mush drug, and not as some payback for Marshall's affair." Her hands caught in the back of his shirt, her arms pulling him closer. "I want you, Ilsa, but I cannot hurt you."

Her breathing hitched, slowly evening out against his shoulder. "Can you… hold me?"

/Ilsa,\\ His arms tightened on their own, every nerve in his body demanding he say yes. "I can do that." He wanted to hold her, he always wanted to hold her.

000

She stood there in his arms, letting the hug and the words slowly fill her with warmth like the bottle of rum hadn't been able to. But even now, Ilsa wanted more. Even knowing he was absolutely right about sex being a truly terrible idea at the moment, she was still thinking about it, about his kiss. She remembered watching him fight, that rush of heat through her blood at the sight of him in action. Remembered clinging to his waist on horseback, the feel of his muscles moving under his skin.

But somehow, this, right here, was so bloody much hotter she almost couldn't breathe. Chance was holding her. She could feel the need shaking through his hands and her own. But he'd meant it, Chance was a man of his word. He would not touch her in any romantic way until she was fully capable of consent. No one had ever cared that much about her before.

"Come with me." He moved to let go and she wasn't ready yet. Ilsa wasn't ready to face the chill outside his arms. She tightened her arms around his waist and refused to let go. "Come on, Ilsa. Up the stairs."

Chance shifted her enough to tuck her against his side without letting her out of his arms. It was a compromise she could live with. "Where are we going?" He just shook his head and led her into his inner sanctum. Ilsa hadn't been in what she privately called his lair before. Even when she'd been in charge of the workmen remodeling their headquarters, she hadn't gone into his apartment. Now he was leading her there, guiding her down to sit on the edge of his bed.

Now he was the one kneeling at her feet, but she knew he wasn't going to start up a kiss like she had. But he did put those big, strong hands on her face, rough fingers gentle against her skin. "I don't think you should be alone tonight, Ilsa. But we aren't going to do anything, not more than we have. I'd like to hold you tonight."

Now she was warm, shivering under his touch. /Yes, hold me, tonight at least.\\ Ilsa bit her lip and some part of her thrilled at the way his eyes heated and followed the motion. "Yes, Chance, I would like that very much." She found herself watching the relieved smile on his lips. They had already kissed. Another one would not be more than they'd already done. "Chance…"

"Good," He pulled back before she could close the distance and reclaimed his lips. Chance sank back on his heels and pulled her feet into his lap. "Let me…" The words faded off but his hands took over. Warm, rough fingers stroked down her ankles to gently remove her shoes and rub warmth into her toes. "Stay here." Then he was completely out of reach, standing across the room to pull clothes out of a drawer. Chance returned with a t-shirt and a pair of draw-string pants. "Bathroom's through there."

She didn't know if her knees would hold her, but they would have to manage. That was the only way she was getting back into his arms. Clutching his clothes to her chest, Ilsa came to her feet and gave him her back. "Can you unzip me?"

He made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. Then it was her turn to gasp when his hands gripped her waist to turn her a little further. Ilsa closed her eyes focusing every nerve in her body on the heat of his hands. Fingertips brushed over the back of her neck and down her spine to the top hem of her dress. He dragged the tab ever so slowly downward, one knuckle following the widening gap with a brush of heat. It was so hard to stand still when she desperately wanted to turn in his arms and take him. Then his lips pressed against her shoulder in a hot, simple kiss. His hands tightened on her hips as the space between their bodies disappeared. Ilsa could feel his breathing go ragged in the movement of his chest against her back. If she pushed him right now, she might not need the workout clothes in her arms. If she pushed him just a little bit, she might get to feel those strong hands on her skin with nothing in the way. /I'd never forgive myself. I won't hurt you, Ilsa, I can't.\\

She couldn't put another load of guilt on his already overburdened conscience. When Ilsa claimed him, she wanted it to be for both of them. No pain, no questions. "Thank you, Chance." Fighting to keep her own breathing even, she slowly walked into his bathroom without looking back. One look at the heat that must be in his face right now and she'd do something that he'd regret later.

With the door closed at her back, she let herself hurry. The dress was one of the last things keeping her out of his arms. Slipping the shirt on over her head, Ilsa dragged in a deep breath. Under the fabric softener, she could still smell his cologne. Cinching the sleep pants around her waist, she tied a hard knot in the drawstring.

It didn't have anything on the hard knot in her stomach. Between the rum, stress, flying bullets, crying jags, and sudden changes of late, Ilsa was torn between being far too wired to sleep and being able to pass out right here on the tile floor. Chance was just on the other side of this door. He could make all this okay somehow. It was what he did.

She peeked around the edge of the door before opening it wide. If he was bare at all, she wasn't going to be able to hold back. Luckily, Chance had dressed in another t-shirt and some drawstring pants, covered from neck to heel in soft cotton. The only skin available was on his arms. She simply could not wait for those arms to be around her again. "Chance?"

"Come here, Ilsa." She wanted to run to the hand he held out to her. But she didn't, barely. Strong fingers closed on hers, bracing her for the climb under the blanket he held up in invitation. She could smell him on the sheets, the pillows, and the knot in her stomach started untying. And he wasn't even in the bed with her yet. He was turning off lights and standing at the edge of the bed to watch her a moment. "I… Ilsa… I can sleep on the couch if you…"

"Stop, Chance, right there. I want you to hold me. Come here." Now it was her grip on his hand leading him under the blankets until he was close enough to touch. It should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't. It felt perfectly natural for Chance to curl his arms around her waist and pull her body tight against his chest. It felt so good to rest her cheek against the strong line of his shoulder and listen to his heartbeat. His fingers running through her hair finished the relaxation process, leaving her feeling warm and safe in his arms. Ilsa tightened her arms around him, pressing closer for just a little more of his warmth on her skin.

"I've got you, Ilsa, you're safe here. Sleep." His lips brushed across her forehead before he pulled her just a little bit closer and tucked the blankets up against her chin. "Goodnight."

"Only if you sleep too. It has been a long couple of days for the both of us." Strong arms held her tight as sleep slowly overtook her. It had been so long since she felt warm and safe, and even longer since she'd slept in someone's arms. "Goodnight, Chance."

000


	2. Letting Go

000

AN: Thoughts inside /\\

Oh, and I own nothing from Human Target and make no money.

Holding on

By AnitaB

Chapter two: Letting go

He had to get out of his bed right now. Normally that would mean someone had just thrown a hand grenade through his bedroom window. It had happened before. This morning that wasn't the case. This morning the reason he needed to get out of bed was the beautiful woman in it. Ilsa Pucci was in his bed, in his arms, curled up against his chest. This morning it would take the explosions to convince his nerves to want to leave the bed. /Ilsa,\\

She was beautiful. She was soft, warm, and so close he couldn't breathe past the need for a kiss. Chance was hard pressed to imagine ever letting her out of his arms. He was also imagining what might happen if he woke her with that kiss.

It was like she knew what he was thinking in her sleep. Ilsa cuddled her back harder against his chest, her hands stroking down the bare skin of his wrists to pull his arms tighter around her waist. His shirt had shifted on her smaller frame during the night, putting one of his hands flush against the warm curve of her waist. If she shifted against his hips one more time, it would his erection that woke her.

He absolutely had to get out of this bed right now. Chance shifted his hips back first even though his nerves protested the sudden chill. "Ilsa," He dropped a kiss on her neck and tried to free his arms to pull back further. The woman in his arms had a different idea.

Ilsa shifted right back against his chest, hips rocking against his as her fingers slid through his. "Chance," She had almost moaned his name. And then the thought of leaving the bed got infinitely harder. Sorta like him. Ilsa led his hand under the hem of that t-shirt and up her ribs to arch the curve of her breast into his palm, skin to gloriously bare skin. "Please, Chance."

She was… so warm, so smooth, and so damn soft under his fingers that he was about to bite his own tongue off to keep quiet. And she was moaning his name in her sleep. /Ilsa, Damnit, please.\\ His other hand flattened low on her stomach completely against his will and tugged her hips even harder against his own. "Ilsa, honey, are you sure about this?" He couldn't force his nerves to pull away, but he was fighting like hell to not push her further, not yet. Not until he knew this was what she really wanted. "Please, honey, talk to me."

"Hmm," Her body arched in his arms, trying to get impossibly closer and making his hips rub against hers in the process. "More, Chance… touch me."

/Oh, fucking hell.\\ Chance forced his body back under control with a helpless groan. Pinning her wrists above her head, he tugged the shirt back down and shifted a few inches from her side. "Ilsa, wake up. Now." A low, hungry sound in her throat made it hard not to lean down for a kiss. God, he wanted to taste her. He wanted to touch her, to give her every single sensation he could. He wanted to drive her wild with pleasure. But Chance needed her consent, needed to know that she really wanted this, wanted him. "Ilsa!"

She jerked awake with a gasp before her eyes found his face and her hands tried to twist free of his. /Nope, not letting you go just yet.\\ Ilsa was so pretty with her hair spread across his pillow, more so when her eyes flicked up to her wrists and her brow quirked. "Good morning, Mr. Chance. I trust that you slept well."

"Yeah, great. We should talk...shouldn't we… about last night?" Most people were scared when he had them restrained. Not Ilsa Pucci, she started smiling and relaxed into his grip.

"And this morning as well, I should think. What exactly did I get up to before you managed to wake me?" So she knew she had a tendency to act in her sleep. His breath rushed out, relief taking its place. "I haven't done anything while asleep in years." He slowly released her wrists, rubbing her skin to help the circulation.

"Uh…" It was a bad idea to tell her that he'd fondled her in her sleep. "Nothing big. But about last night."

Ilsa sat up, folding her arms over her knees. "I got quite remarkably drunk and kissed you after I nearly got us all killed by dragging all my rather weighty issues into a case so badly that you had to get caught to protect me." She rested her cheek against her arms and gave him a weak smile. "And after all that you still kissed me back before taking such amazing care of me." She tried to hide behind her hair. "Why would you do all that for me, Mr. Chance? Why would some amateur like me be worth a moment of your time?"

He had to touch her. Chance moved close and brushed her hair out of her face. His fingers stayed on the curve of her cheek, lifting her chin up off her knees. "Harry pointed it out to me and I have to say he's right. I have feelings for you, Ilsa. You're beautiful, stubborn, strong, smart, and so damn much more than I deserve to work next to every day let alone touch."

Her cheek nuzzled into his hand and her teeth sank hard into her lip. "Would you say, Mr. Chance, that I am still under the influence of the sodium thiopental?" There was something in her eyes that made him nervous. That was the look of a woman plotting something dangerous.

"Not after more than twelve hours. You're mush drug free." She was leaning closer and he automatically braced one hand on her leg. Her smile was growing.

"Would you say I've processed enough of the alcohol I drank to be considered sober again?" Her body shifted even closer, ending up on her knees with her hand on his shoulder. He was starting to see where this was going, but he wasn't going to lead her there first. Chance nodded and knew she was reading his face more than she had any right to by the growing heat in her eyes. "So I would be capable of giving my consent, of making a decision?"

/Please, Ilsa, please mean it.\\ He found himself coming to his knees in front of her, resting one hand on the curve of her waist. "Yes, Ilsa, you are."

She smiled and he would swear the room got brighter. Ilsa slowly wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him just a little closer. "Then believe me when I say that I want you, Chance. And it's not that I'm drugged, or drunk, or out of vengeance for Marshall's affair." His arms helplessly moved to circle her waist, his eyes dropped on their own to her lips. "I want you, Christopher Chance. Please touch—"

He didn't wait for the last word when she'd made it so clear exactly what she was asking for. "Ilsa," Chance fisted one hand in the back of her t-shirt and claimed her lips. She was perfect, clinging to the back of his neck and opening her mouth to invite him even closer, even deeper. She was sweet, warm, and tasted so good he needed more. Much more. He weakly dragged himself back from her lips to lock his eyes to hers. "You're sure, Ilsa?"

Her eyes locked to his lips. Her hand caught one of his, guiding it between the t-shirt and her skin. But this time he could watch the pleasure on her face and know she wanted this. By the time her fingers curved his against her breast, he was groaning low in his throat and tangling his other hand in her hair. "I am very sure, Chance. Touch me."

"Oh, yes." He reclaimed her lips, driving his tongue deep for the taste of her and stroked his thumb around the stiffened peak of her breast. "Ilsa."

000

/Finally,\\ Ilsa welcomed the plunge of his tongue, arching against the stroke of his rough, warm hand over her skin. She'd felt that hand just there in her sleep and known that she wanted more. All of him, all of him closer, warmer. "Ilsa."

/Yes, Chance. I want more. I want you.\\ Her nails clenched against the hard strength of his shoulders. Damn his clothes. Ilsa wanted skin. She wanted him bare, now. Weakly pulling back from his lips, she fisted both hands in the fabric of his t-shirt. "Off, take it off."

He groaned, low and harsh, before dragging his hands off her skin and out of her hair to peel the shirt off over his head. "Yours, too." His hands were so quick at her hem that all she managed to do was lift her arms before she was half naked kneeling in the center of his bed. "Ilsa." Her legs started shaking at the heat in his voice and his eyes, but there was no way she was letting them actually give way. Ilsa wanted to be closer to the warmth of his skin and that meant staying right here on her knees. Reaching for his shoulders, she found herself held a chilly foot from his skin, hot blue eyes burning a shivering path over her body. "Ilsa, you are… so beautiful."

Every inch of her body shivered at the slow stroke of his fingertips down the center of her body from collarbone to waistband. He was killing her with his touch, his voice, and that damn foot of cold air. "Chance," Ilsa got a grip on his neck and wiggled free of the hand at her hip, forcing her way between his arms to press hard against his chest. Heat burned her eager nerves, getting hotter when his arms wrapped tight around her waist. "You feel… ah… so bloody good. Please, Chance." Now it didn't matter that her legs were jello beneath her. His arms were locked so tight around her waist that she couldn't fall if she wanted to. Her hands were obsessed with the smooth, hot lines of his back, feeling every little shift of his muscles as he pulled her even closer. "Tighter,"

"Wanna touch you, feel all of you." One big hand left the skin of her back to curve under her hips and guide her legs around his waist. The next moment, Ilsa was on her back in the middle of the bed with every gorgeous inch of his body pinning her happily to the sheets. Getting another amazing kiss, this time wrapped in warm skin and strong muscles.

She bloody well loved this, drinking in the taste of him. Rubbing against his chest, Ilsa ran exploring hands along his back, rocking her hips against the erection in the front of his pants. She adored the low, desperate rumble of his groan vibrating against so many of her nerves. Weakly breaking the kiss, Ilsa smiled up at the heat in his eyes. "So go ahead and do it, Chance. Feel me." Her nails scratched along the back of his neck as her body moved against his to the feel of another of his groans. "Please,"

He smiled against her lips and stroked those big, strong hands up her sides, fingers spread wide against her ribs. She could feel every little shift of his muscles against her skin as he guided her arms above her head and kissed his way down her throat. "Keep your hands right there." She missed the heat of his skin under her fingers but that smile against her pulse was more than worth the chill in her palms. Ilsa fisted her hands in the pillowcase, her breath catching at the look on his face. He was staring down at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His fingers were shaking as they stroked along the side of her face. "Ilsa," It was her hands shaking as those fingers finally cupped her breasts, stroking over her skin in a breathtaking wash of heat. Her back arched, fighting to get just a little more of his skin against hers.

That was the only reason she didn't see it coming. His touch had her eyes clenched and her breath caught in her throat and only then did he lower his head and replace his fingers with his tongue. /Oh, bloody hell, yes.\\ There was no way in hell she was keeping her hands above her head at the glorious exploration of her breasts by that hot mouth. "Chance!" Catching her fingers in his hair, Ilsa forced her head up and her eyes open because, good lord, she wanted to see this. Strong hands supported her back, lifting her harder against his mouth. Hot blue eyes locked on her face as their owner kissed and licked his way across her ribs. He pressed a soft, hot kiss right above her heart before wrapping his lips around her other nipple with a gentle suction. It felt unbelievably good and that was before he made a low, soft hungry sound that vibrated along her nerves. "Oh, lord, please."

Chance smiled against her skin, rubbing one hand down her side to curve around her waist. He lifted his head and tempted her with a stroke of his tongue over his lip. "What do you want, Ilsa?"

She wanted his hands on her skin, his lips against hers. She wanted him naked in her arms. She wanted to kiss every one of his scars and make him shout her name in pleasure. She wanted to hold him as close as she could get him when he let down all his walls. "I want you, Chance. All of you. I want my turn." Wrapping her arms tight around his neck, Ilsa dragged him over her body to get his lips to hers. Rubbing against his chest and hooking her knees around his waist, she nipped at his lower lip with a groan. "I want you, Chance, on your back and completely naked. I want to touch you."

She absolutely adored the near growl he buried in a kiss as he wrapped his arms tight around her ribs and rolled to his back. Strong hands rubbed down her back to close on her hips, guiding her body against and above his. "You can touch me all you want, Ilsa. But I'm not losing the pants until you do." His eyes warmed her lips before dropping to stroke down her body so strongly she could almost feel the heat of his gaze like it was the stroke of his hands.

He wasn't naked, but good lord he looked so good lying there waiting for her touch. Every muscled inch of his upper body called to her hands, her lips. Christopher Chance, man of mystery, hero in the dark, was lying there passively, inviting her to touch him. Ilsa made her hands work, wrapping her fingers around his wrist to guide his arms above his head. She curled his fingers around the bars of his headboard, leaning low enough over him to brush her lips against his. "Keep your hands right there." At his smile, Ilsa dragged her fingertips from his wrists to his shoulders, detailing every hard, flexing muscle along the way. These arms had held her, protected her, shielded her more times than she could count. "Chance," Breathing his name, she leaned down against his chest to drag the very tip of her tongue over a long, thin scar on his shoulder.

"Ilsa,"

"Shh, Chance. I can touch you all I want, you said so. And I am nowhere near done with you." Pressing a kiss over his heart, Ilsa went about exploring the amazing man under her with hands and mouth.

000


	3. Right There

AN: Thoughts inside /\\

Oh, and I own nothing from Human Target and make no money.

Holding on

By AnitaB

Chapter three: Right There…

She was killing him, and doing it better than the dozens of people in his past who had actually been trying to kill him. Ilsa was sitting across his waist, burning him alive with the simplest of touches and her eyes. Just the stroke of her fingers from his wrists to his shoulders had him ready to break the headboard just to get his hands back on her skin. But his Ilsa wanted him like this, had wrapped his fingers around the wooden bars and he would hold on for her as long as he could stand it. That time got shorter with the words on her lips and the press of the softest of kisses right over his heart. /Ilsa, sweetheart.\\

Her hands warmed his ribs and her fingertips smoothed over old scars, somehow taking away a pain he hadn't known he was carrying. When her lips moved to follow, Chance was suddenly jealous of his own skin. "Please, Ilsa, kiss me." She put a little more of a groan in his voice with the stroke of her tongue over an old bullet wound just above his hip. He felt those dangerous lips curve in a smile just above his waistband.

"Where, Chance?" Ilsa nibbled low on his stomach, her nails dragging down over the flexing muscles of his sides. "Where do you want me to kiss you?" Her breath was warm through the thin cloth of his pjs. And Chance couldn't help but imagine exactly what she was hinting at. Those beautiful lips would be so warm, feel so soft. That agile, little sharp-edged tongue would find his most sensitive nerves and tease him to distraction. That mouth around his erection would break him into a thousand little pieces and explode any self-control he'd ever had.

When her fingers started playing with the tightly knotted drawstring, Chance knew he had to act. He had about three seconds before his headstrong little Ilsa cracked him open like an egg. "Ilsa," Letting go of the headboard, Chance grabbed her wrists and rolled her to her back under his chest. Transferring both her hands into one of his, he cupped his palm around her jaw and tilted her face up to his. "Here, Ilsa. I want your taste on my tongue." She was perfect with a happy little smile before she obeyed. Chance got lost in her kiss, sending his hands down the heat of her skin to pull her just a little closer. His fingers closed on the curve of her hip, a low groan in his throat at the cloth blocking her skin. Chance weakly broke the kiss, and tugged at the drawstring at her waist. "Can I…"

"Yes," Ilsa braced her heels in the mattress and her hands around his neck, her hips lifting hard against the front of his to help the slide of fabric down her legs. His fingers stumbled on the knot before finally controlling the trembling enough to strip her out of the last of her clothes. "Yes, I insist." He smiled at the eager command in her voice, pulling the last of the cloth clear her toes and trying to catch his breath. Ilsa was … so damn beautiful, lying naked in his bed. Soft, smooth skin called to his eyes, his hands, his mouth. Chance wanted to stroke, lick and kiss every single inch of that gorgeous skin. He wanted to wrap those strong, smooth legs around his hips and press every inch of himself inside this amazing woman reaching for him. Without any conscious permission from his brain, his hands moved on their own, sliding up those beautiful legs from her ankles to her hips. "Please, Chance."

There was no way in hell that he could resist the grip of her hands and his name on her lips. "Ilsa," Chance found himself crawling back into her arms to wrap both his arms tight around her waist. "Closer, I need to feel you." Pulling her up across his lap, he stole a hard kiss and let his hands explore the lines and curves of her. Then she tried yet again to kill him with the perfect arch and rub of her hips against the front of his. Only his clothes kept him from feeling the glorious heat of her against his skin. He'd never hated his own clothes more. He wanted that heat, wanted to watch her face as he pressed against her most sensitive nerves. He wanted Ilsa. "I need to touch you, baby, please." Chance made his fingers stop so low on her stomach that he was itching to go just a little bit further, but not until she said yes. "Please, Ilsa." Her eyes fluttered, her nails dug hard into his back and her hips tried to move enough to put his fingers just where he wanted to put them. But she hadn't spoken yet. "Ilsa, tell me."

She gasped and dragged one hand off his back and wrapped shaking fingers around his wrist. With her eyes locked to his, Ilsa shoved his hand between her thighs and only then managed to moan his name. "Oh bloody hell, Chance. Touch me."

She was… hot and soft and so wet that he wanted to throw her knees over his shoulders and take a sip. But not until he'd obeyed the grip of her nails and the frantic arch of her hips. Chance braced her upright with one arm and watched his fingers slide out of sight into the sweet depths of her body. "Ilsa, Honey, you feel…" He wasn't going to manage the words, but he could show her just how much he loved that she wanted him this much. Chance buried his free hand in her hair and angled her head for a kiss, driving his tongue with the same rhythm as his fingers.

He damn well loved her response. Ilsa moaned, arched, and nearly drew his blood with her nails. She clung to him with every lean, strong inch of her body. But even now, she wasn't close enough. Chance wanted more of her. Kissing his way down her throat, he watched his own hand between her thighs, watched the trembling of her stomach get harder with every plunge of his fingers. An extra twist of his wrist had her hips riding his fingers desperately, his name on her lips. Sharp little nails clawed at his shoulders as the body in his arms arched and twisted under his touch. "Chance, oh bloody hell, I need…" He plunged his fingers deeper just to feel every inch of her body shiver and press closer.

"What, baby? What do you need?" Chance locked his eyes to her face and wrapped his lips around the peak of one sweet breast. She was delicious and he wanted to taste more of her. "Tell me and I'll give it to you." Her hands fisted in his hair and Chance found her lips claiming his for a hard deep kiss. Ilsa was so sweet, so warm, so delightfully soft and strong.

She almost growled, fingers tightening in his hair to the point of pain. /That's my girl,\\ His Ilsa forced his head up and sank her teeth into his lower lip. "I need you naked, Chance. I need to touch you. Bloody hell, I need you inside me." She rubbed her hips down into his, groaning at the depth of his fingers. "Damnit, Chance, lose the pants and get in here."

"Yes, ma'am." It was nearly painful to let her out of his arms and off his lap. But there was no way to obey her otherwise. Ilsa stayed determinedly close as he unknotted his drawstring and shoved the last of his clothes down his legs and off the bed. He was reaching out to pull her back against his body when she beat him to the punch. "Ilsa," Chance found himself clinging to her waist as her hands… such soft, strong little fingers… curled tight around him and stroked heat up and down his length. "Ilsa, please."

Her lips curved sweetly against his with a low, sweet laugh. "Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you."

Yup, she was going to kill him. And he was going to love it.

000

Finally. She was finally going to get him out of those damn sleep pants. Ilsa was finally going to get Christopher Chance exactly where and how she wanted him. /About bloody time.\\ She stayed on her knees when reality made her leave his lap. It was quite difficult to take off pants with someone on your lap. But there was no way she was increasing the distance between them one inch more than she had to. Ilsa was already feeling the cold wash over her skin without his touch. It was time to get that heat back, the second he was as naked as she was. Fabric fell over the edge of the bed and Ilsa was already moving forward. She wanted, she needed, she reached. The feel of his erection in her hand was heaven but she downright adored the sound of her name on his lips and the shaking fingers braced on her waist. Such a simple touch from her had him responding so beautifully… "Ilsa, please."

There was such power in this man, such strength of will and sheer determination. And yet he begged in her arms. He trembled and clung and whispered her name. /I've got you, Chance.\\ Ilsa let the thrill of him in her hand show in a smile and a low chuckle. Nothing was better than knowing what she could do to this amazing man. And good sweet lord, she had plans for him. "Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you."

The breathless sound on his lips came with the slide of one strong hand along her jaw. Chance stared at her lips for a moment before meeting her gaze with heat in his eyes. "I need you, Ilsa. I need to be inside you, Honey. I need a kiss, your kiss." She wasn't letting him out of her grip, but that in no way meant she didn't want the kiss. Ilsa leaned into the gentle heat of his touch, angling her chin to offer him the kiss he asked for. The rasp of his groan sent a shiver along her nerves in the instant before his lips reached hers. This wasn't a kiss. This was more than the warmth of lips and the thrust of tongues. This was Christopher Chance kissing her like she was the only woman in the world, holding her like she would vanish if he let her go. "Ilsa,"

It was only after his lips left hers that she noticed they'd moved. Chance had laid her back on the pillows and wrapped her legs high around his waist. His hips notched high between her thighs, so close to where she wanted him that her back arched and her breath caught. "Chance…" Her nails curled into his back even as his arms tightened around her waist. Closer, almost close enough. He felt… so damn good above her, against so much of her hungry skin. But he wasn't close enough. Ilsa wanted to touch him, explore the erection so hard and so hot against her thigh. But she didn't know if she could wait to feel him inside her body. She wanted to hold him that close, to warm this amazing man with her body, her kiss. "I need to feel you, Chance. Either let me touch you or get the hell in here."

His ribs shook under her fingers, the sound something between a laugh and a groan. "I'll break wide open if you touch me. Such sweet, soft hands." His body shifted over hers, guiding her knees up and rubbing strong hands up her back. A soft kiss later, Chance smiled at her. "Next time, sweet Ilsa, next time you can touch me all you want."

The tip of his erection nudged between her legs and every nerve in her body tried to guide him in. /Chance, please.\\ He was so close, but he wouldn't move that last little bit, held her positioned so she couldn't take him. "I'll hold you to that. Now what about this time?" Ilsa rocked her hips against his, squeezed her legs around him, loving the low sound he made and the growing tension in his arms. /Come on, Chance, move already.\\

"Hold on, Ilsa, tight." He waited until her nails were buried in the back of his neck before he moved. Oh, but what a move… Ilsa fought to keep her eyes locked to his through the slow, careful, but oh so deep thrust of his erection. /Bloody hell, finally.\\ So deep. It had been far, far too long since she'd held a man like this, with every inch of her body. It had been so long that part of her had wanted to hold this man just like this and he was finally… here, holding her just as fiercely as she held him. Strong arms trembled and tightened around her as those gorgeous eyes stared down into hers. "Ilsa,"

She was breathless when Chance claimed her lips, instantly lost in the heat of him finally as close as she wanted him. Wrapping her arms tighter around his neck, Ilsa made a helpless little sound against his lips as every inch of her body shifted under his. He felt so bloody good she couldn't breathe, but that didn't mean she couldn't try to feel him even a little closer. "Chance," His name hitched a little when his hand curved around her thigh, helping her hips angle up against his, sliding another hard inch deeper. "More, please…"

"Anything you want, baby." Chance smiled, right against her lips, wrapped one arm tight around her waist, and pulled her somehow just a little closer. Ilsa gasped at the press of him just a little deeper. /Oh, bloody hell, yes.\\ He laughed, low and somehow proudly. "There's nothing I want more than more of you. Hold on tight, my Ilsa."

He couldn't pry her hands off his skin with a crowbar or an explosion. But then he started moving and Ilsa couldn't have made herself let go of him if their lives depended on it. Nothing in the world could possibly feel even a little bit better than this amazing man putting every gorgeous inch of his body into getting closer to hers. "Chance," She fought for enough air to tell him… to tell him… how bloody perfect he felt inside her, how much she loved holding him, how much she wanted to feel exactly like this every single day for the rest of their lives. But the next deep thrust of his length into her most sensitive nerves stole her breath. All she could manage was a sigh. "Yes,"

"There you are, Ilsa." He gave her a kiss almost as deep as his body between her legs before pulling back with a smile and a thrust of his hips. "I've got you, my girl. I'm keeping you. Want you to feel so damn good." He already had what he wanted. Ilsa had never felt better in her life. Every thrust of his hips pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Every kiss, every stroke of those hands against her skin, even the look on his face as she helplessly clung to him wound her nerves tighter and tighter.

/Close, Chance, so close.\\ This was exactly what she wanted… almost. Ilsa wanted to make this wonderful man fall apart. She needed to push him over that edge, to feel him feel that good, right here in her arms. "Chance," Ilsa felt his arms tighten at the sound of his name, felt the slightest of shivers pass through the muscles of his back. /That's it, Chance, feel me, feel this.\\ Meeting the next thrust of his hips with an arch of her own, Ilsa moaned into his ear. "Chance, please. Want you, want more." Now it wasn't just a shiver in his back, it was a heavy shaking through his entire body. Every strong muscle in his body tightened and jerked, pushing every inch of his erection gloriously deeper. "Right there, Chance, I want you right there… harder."

The sound on his lips was almost a growl in the instant before his lips claimed hers. Strong arms locked tight around her waist, holding her still for a lunge of his hips. He was so deep, so bloody perfect that she must be drawing blood on his back. "Here, Ilsa? Want me right here?" He shifted between her thighs. Somehow the tiny change pressed his length against a whole new set of nerves and pushed her right over the edge.

"Chance!" Ilsa could feel his skin breaking under her nails, could hear his voice calling out her name and the heat of pleasure finally crashing over and through them both. /Yes, this is exactly what I want.\\

000


End file.
